


The Pepper Bandits Affair

by MariaPriest



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-05-15 01:46:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14781272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MariaPriest/pseuds/MariaPriest
Summary: What's the worst thing a pair of U.N.C.L.E. cat burglars can face?





	The Pepper Bandits Affair

The mission was straightforward: swap an epoxy-like biochemical formula purported to destroy hardened steel with one that yielded a harmless yet incredibly smelly foam. With both THRUSH and La Cosa Nostra in a bidding war to purchase it from its scientist/creator, it was necessary to engineer a break-in before either criminal organization could obtain it. And because it called for a high level of stealth, Waverly assigned the mission to his most accomplished team of Solo and Kuryakin.

This meant they'd carry the usual tools of cat burglars but not of U.N.C.L.E. agents. They weren't thrilled that they wouldn't have their guns or their UNCLE IDs, but if caught, they'd have a hard time explaining them.

"I see three possible entry points," stated Illya, tapping the home's blueprints with his finger.

Napoleon considered the choices for a moment, then nodded in agreement. "I think we're good to go."

"Dr. Hoefler is scheduled to speak at a seminar at Hudson University tomorrow evening, followed by a reception. That would be an opportune time."

"Agreed. I look forward to working with my pooseycat again," Napoleon said, lapsing into his Inspector Javert persona.

Illya furrowed his brow. "I told you to never call me that again."

"Oh, meow. Didn't mean to ruffle your fur."

Illya bared his teeth and growled threateningly.

"Kitty have a thorn in his paw?"

"No. A pain in my neck." He made sure Napoleon didn't miss his teasing smile.

"Me-ouch."

oOo

The next evening, the partners stood at the back door of Hoefler's home in Brooklyn. Napoleon, clad in form-fitting navy-blue fatigues and watch cap, face smeared with black greasepaint, picked the lock while Illya, similarly turned out in black, had look-out duty.

"Hurry, Napoleon, we don't have all night."

"Patience." Solo grimaced as he twisted the pick and the mechanism finally yielded to his expertise. "That couldn't have taken more than six seconds."

"Ten. You're slipping."

Napoleon raised an arm as if to backhand Illya and gave him a perturbed look. Illya merely cocked an eyebrow.

Without a sound, Napoleon opened the door. He entered the kitchen first and after surveying it and finding nothing untoward, he moved farther in. Illya sidled up behind him.

It was a typical kitchen. However, something Napoleon spotted on the table sparked his curiosity. Next to the salt-and-pepper grinders was a squat, green tin container with small holes in its lid. He picked it up with a gloved hand and sniffed. Almost immediately, his eyes scrunched closed and he inhaled sharply in readiness to sneeze.

Illya recognized the aroma and quickly clamped his hand over his partner's nose and mouth, dampening the sneeze's sound.

Napoleon signaled he was okay. He returned the tin to its place and straightened his shoulders. Suddenly his body tensed just as Illya sniffed then whispered, "I smell -"

A hand on Illya's arm cut him off. He peered over Napoleon's shoulder. 

Together they said _sotte voce_ , "Dog."

Somehow neither agent had heard the click-click of claws on the linoleum. A German shepherd stood a few feet in front of Napoleon. Its lips curled to expose fangs. A pant later, it began to snarl.

Illya tensed as well. He hated dogs, but he hated German shepherds most of all. He pushed aside the memories of their viciousness during the siege and occupation of Kiev and took a deep breath to steady his nerves and left hand, which was reaching for the container. _It worked before; it will again_.

Napoleon knew what Illya was up to. He did his part to distract the animal by moving the fingers of his right hand and humming Brahms' _Lullaby_. It was working; the dog hadn't moved closer nor had the snarling increased.

Gently, Illya gripped the tin and in the next millisecond, was shaking cayenne pepper in the dog's face.

It worked. The dog sneezed, whined, and backed away.

Napoleon took the container from Illya. "I'll keep him occupied."

Illya nodded, ecstatic that he wouldn't be in the creature's presence any longer. "Careful, Napoleon. It'll be very mad once it recovers." He took off for the library where the safe's installers said it would be.

Thanks to their instructions and his own ability, he had the safe open in seconds and exchanged formulas. He closed the door and locked it, checked the room to make sure nothing was disturbed, and headed back to the kitchen.

He found Napoleon on his haunches, petting the still-whimpering but now subdued dog whose snout was resting on his thigh. Illya sighed. "Must be a bitch."

"Ah, you know, music, savage beast ..."

"Breast," Illya automatically corrected.

Napoleon shot him an irritated look. "C'mon, we need to make this place look like there was a robbery interrupted by my girl here."

It only took a few minutes to bring some disorder to the house. Napoleon stood with his hands on his hips, the dog leaning on his leg, and declared, "Looks good to me."

Illya held up a finger. He dropped the black velvet sack he had carried as part of Plan B near the buffet. From the drawer Napoleon had opened earlier, he withdrew a handful of silverware and dropped the pieces near the bag.

"Nice touch." Solo stroked the head of his latest conquest so Illya could confidently move past them and back into the kitchen.

Once in the car, they removed the greasepaint - it wasn't a good idea to draw attention to themselves on public streets.

"You know, Illya, if we ever decide to leave U.N.C.L.E., we could go into business for ourselves as cat burglars. We could leave behind some cayenne pepper at every scene as the signature of the _Pepper Bandits_."

Illya wiped off the last of the black goo from his face and considered what Napoleon had said. "That is a possibility." Leave it to him to come up with an idea that might work for them now. Ground pepper had been used as a weapon in ancient India and China. Even ninjas had deployed it to incapacitate their opponents. Why couldn't it work for field agents?

However, the delivery system would need to be more reliable. As he drove, he started thinking how he could aerosolize pepper. That would put another non-lethal tool into their arsenal.

When Illya didn't speak for a while, Napoleon said, "Maybe we should be called the _Spice Boys_?"

the end  
©2018  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to CoriKay for yet another valuable beta.  
> Response to a Section VII challenge with prompts of spice and green


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